


Late

by ascoolsuchasi



Series: Bad Things [8]
Category: Shame (2011), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: 1stclass_kink, F/M, M/M, Multi, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-16
Updated: 2011-10-16
Packaged: 2017-10-24 16:22:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/265504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ascoolsuchasi/pseuds/ascoolsuchasi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Anticipationwantneedlust. It's not something that he can control.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Late

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for infidelity, semi-public sex, and lots of swears.

Charles fidgets in his seat and tries to remember why he thought it was a good idea to come to the coffee shop ten minutes early. He’s getting strange looks from the barista and it’s only making him feel worse.

Right about the fifteen minute mark, Charles is wishing he brought his textbooks and homework so he could be studying and not look as half as pathetic as he feels like he looks.

This is also about the time the barista comes over to where Charles is sitting and says, “I think she bailed on you, dude.”

And Charles has half a mind to believe him, but he scowls and refuses to believe it.

“ _He_ ,” Charles corrects, “has _not_ stood me up. He’s not the kind of person to do that.”

But, he immediately regrets saying it because for one, it garnered a sort of sympathetic look from the barista that really doesn’t fit with his red hair and freckles and happy demeanor, and two, Charles doesn’t actually know anything about Erik, except that he’s the kind of guy  that finds the most inopportune times to call Charles just to get off and make Charles feel dirty and too young and naïve and _oh gods, why do i want this- him- so much? i have logan._

The barista pats him on the back and gives him a smile.

“Sure dude. Whatever. Anyhow, d’ya need anything?”

Charles stares at him a moment, then sighs.

“No, uh...”

The barista smiled, all teeth and slow happy.

“Sean.” He supplied.

“Then, uh, no thanks Sean.”

Charles smiles at hum uneasily then turns his head towards the window and tries to remember what Erik looks likes and just pulls up sharp lines and rough angles and determination. Distantly, he’s aware that this, whatever _this_ is- where ever it’s going- is not something that he should be doing. And it surprises him how little he cares.

It’s five- maybe ten- minutes later that Charles decides that he really is done with waiting and feeling pathetic. He makes a move to push back his chair and get up, when he hears the sound of the door opening and closing and Sean saying, “Welcome dud. Can I take your or- Oh wow! Dude you’re ridiculously tall- like a giraffe!” and a chuckle that sounded more like a growl than anything else.

Charles turns his attention to Sean and the new costumer  and takes in tall and sharply dressed and slicked back brown-blonde hair and _knows._

“Erik.” But it’s more of a question than a statement.

The guy turns and focuses grey-blue eyes on Charles and Charles gets a smile full or teeth that’s on the wrong side of angular and intimidation.

Erik turns back to Sean and says something along the lines of “French vanilla blend black. No sugar, so help you god, no sugar.”

It’s a few more minutes, with Charles slumped down in his seat, for Erik to make his way to the seat across from Charles.

Charles bites at his lower lip and looks down at the table.

He says, “Hi.” and tries to ignore the way his voice cracks.

Erik smiles something predatory and says, “Hello, Charles.” and the words roll of his tongue like nothing.

He takes a drink from his coffee cup, his eyes never leaving Charles’.

He sets down his cup and raises an eyebrow.

“No school satchel?”

Charles stares at him blankly.

“Wha? Scho- Oh, yeah,” he scratches at his neck, “I’m not always a uh, a student, you know?”

He smiles, or at least tries to and looks up to Erik.

“Hmm.” Erik takes another drink from 

“Sooooo, um-” 

Erik leans forward slightly.  


“Listen Charles, let’s make this...meet and greet more _interesting_.”

Charles blinks slowly and opens his mouth to say something- anything, but Erik cuts him off by a hand on Charles thigh, thumb rubbing dangerously close to the seam-line of ho pants and says, “Meet me out in the in five.”

He trails his hand off of Charles and he pushes his chair back and heads for the door. He forgets- no, he leaves- his coffee drink.

Charles stares at it a moment, idly wondering what the hell he’s getting himself into and what could be so interesting about the alley way.

“Short visit?”

“Huh?” Charles looks around and sees Sean smiling with an eyebrow quirked. “Oh, yeah. Umm, yeah. Bye Sean.” He offers up a half smile and a wave.

“You too, dude.”

Charles stands up and sort of half stumbles to the door but stops when Sean calls out for him.

“What was that?”

Sean tilts his head to Charles’ table.

“I said, ‘you forgot you coffee’.”

“Ah.” Charles nods and makes his way back to the table.

Five or so minutes later he’s wandering down the alley way, coffee clutched in his hands.

“Erik?”

Charles stiffens when he feels hands on his hips and breath against the back of his neck.

“Knew you’d come.”

Charles breaths out.

“Erik.”

Erik steps closer until he’s pressed into Charles and Charles’ breath hitches when he feels Erik’s hardening cock against the small of his back.

“Y-you uh, forgot your coffee.” Charles says lamely and holds out the cup.

“I know.” and it’s a husky whisper against the shell of Charles’ ear.

“Oh.”

And Erik rolls his hips into Charles and his hands work their way up and down his chest and slip under his cardigan, fingers splayed across his stomach.

Charles gasps and rocks back into Erik, dropping the coffee drink to the ground.

“Ah, s-sorry.” Charles moans.

Erik takes his right hand out from Charles’ shirt and holds his jaw and tilts it towards his and says, “Doesn’t matter.”, with the words ghosting over Charles’ mouth.

Charles makes a sort of whining sound and Erik presses forward and claims his mouth, and it’s wet and messy and all teeth and only half mouths and lips bitten between teeth. 

Erik groans and runs his left hand further across Charles’ stomach before he slips it out to undo the buttons.

When Erik pulls back, he licks his lips and asks, “You gonna suck my cock?” and it’s no longer the question Erik keeps asking, it’s a statement and a command and Charles walks Erik back against the wall and turns to face him. Blue eyes shimmering like waves against the shore and he kisses Erik again, and Erik takes over, making it deep and bruising and one of his hands finds Charles’ arse and the other finds the bulge in his jeans and rubs.

Charles moans and jerks forward into Erik and Erik smirks and licks his way to the juncture of Charles’ neck and bites down.

“N-no. Marks, fuck, Erik, no.” Charles gasps and his hands run up Erik’s back.

Erik pulls back and watches as Charles’ skin turns a slight pink-red colour and says, “Then down on your knees lad.”

Charles bites his bottom lip and nods. He kneels down and with shaky hands, he undoes the zip and button of Erik’s pants and pulls them down his hips and thighs, down to pool at his feet.

Charles runs a hesitant hand over Erik’s boxers and Erik watches him through half lidded eyes and wets his lips. Erik’s hands find their way into Charles’ hair and his neck, thumb rubbing circles on the dip of his collar bone.

Charles looks up at Erik and his thumbs dip into his boxers and pulls them down to pool down with his pants.

Charles wets his lips and wraps his hand around Erik’s cock, stroking it and licks a hesitant line around the head. Erik groans and his grip on Charles’ head tightens.

“C’mon Charles.” 

Charles wraps his entire mouth and sucks, his hands running up and down the length of Erik’s thighs and Erik tips his head back, hitting the bricks behind him and moans.

Charles swallows and bobs his head and takes the base of Erik in his hand and sucks in time with his strokes. He pulls off of Erik with a loud popping sound and licks up his shaft and down to up balls, taking them in his mouth and rolling his tongue over them. His thumb circles around the head of Erik’s dick, and presses slightly into the slit, then goes back to stroking and Erik’s hip jerk involuntarily and he moans, “God. _Fuck_.” and comes.

Charles falls back to sit flat on his arse, tugs down his jeans and spreads his knees.

Erik looks down at him, eyes dark and clouded and mouth open slightly and he says, “Touch yourself, Charles.” 

And Charles wets his lips and grips his prick, moving his hand slowly down and up and flicks his wrist just so. And it takes _three, four_ more strokes and he’s coming undone in his hand and on he cement, his come mixing with the spilled coffee.

Erik laughs low and in the back of his throat and fixes himself back into his pants. He kneels down to Charles and runs his hands through his hair. He licks a sick slick line from the corner of his mouth, following across his jaw to lick at the shell of his ear and whispers, “Same time next week, Charles?” and walks off with a wink and a lightness to his step.

Charles watches him walk off on the asphalt with his jeans still half way around his thighs, with a half dazed expression, with eyes hard to focus. And when Erik rounds the corner, he’s trying to think any kind of coherent thought past _ohjeezefuckfuckgodsfuckhell_ and _tuesdays may be my favourite day now._  


End file.
